


Pure Coincedence, or Pure Destiny?

by CoyoteStarrksAss



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: chanting Dad Dante Dad Dante Da, uhhhh theres rlly not much else to tag, wrote this bc Dante should be my Dad i think
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:41:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23600248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoyoteStarrksAss/pseuds/CoyoteStarrksAss
Summary: It's a rainy day, and Dante's got some down time to reflect. However, he's not really alone; there's a baby sleeping with him, and he can't help but wonder if the kid was dropped off by coincedence, or if it was destiny (as corny as it is).
Comments: 3
Kudos: 19





	Pure Coincedence, or Pure Destiny?

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this bc i was rlly feelin it fellas
> 
> And also. Idk man dad Dante just seems rlly good to me. Love the idea. I love him lots ;;

The rain hadn't let up for a week. Dante's unsure if it was remnants of a large storm on the path to the open water to the east, or if there was some other reason behind it. He has a slight worry about the situation, and he knows he should look into it, just to see if there's _other_ causes at play. 

But, for now… He's focused on something else. Some _one_ else. 

The baby beside him was sleeping as soundly as could be, the rain having calmed them down an hour or so ago into peaceful dreams. Snoring softly, small chest rising and falling steadily, and a tiny hand wrapped around his fingers, Dante couldn't help but to feel at peace himself, in a way. 

He had never expected to have a child. He still, biologically, _didn't_ (though he often considers his own nephew, Nero, his son). It wasn't as if the half demon was looking to have one; rather, this child had come looking for him themselves, in a sense. 

-Another rainy day, probably half a year ago now. Dante had been cooped up in his room - willingly, mourning the death of his human mother, about a century ago - so he hadn't immediately noticed, but when he had emerged from his sorrows, he had noticed a bundle of what had seemed to be sheets in his nephew's arms. One of his few friends, Trish, a full demon, had been over at the time, Nero having called her over to help with the bundle at hand. 

The two had looked like deers in a headlight when Dante caught sight of them. If he'd had more energy, he would have feigned some comedy, but instead, what had come from him was,

"What the hell is in your arms, Nero?"

It hadn't been a malicious question; Dante adored children, he would never. It was more confused, and in awe, somewhat. 

Nero had simply smiled tiredly, dark circles around his eyes letting Dante know the boy hadn't slept. He had later found that the baby, while not particularly loud even when not fussy, stayed up far too much at night, and it had cut into Nero's own used-to (yet unneeded, seeing as he was quarter demon) sleep. It had been the reason as to why Dante, while having sensed an unusual mood around while in his room, hadn't realized the baby was even there. 

But the baby, too, was tired, and while still not loud, was fussing and squirming in the blankets around their small little body. Not hungry, not cold, and not hot; no, quite simply just tired. 

Just… Not enough so to sleep. Odd, for a fairly-newborn, but not much unlike Dante. He could understand and sympathize. 

(He's sure his brother, Vergil, would joke that a man well over a century old would have _nothing_ in common with a baby born perhaps a week before, at that time. And he very well _should_ have been right. 

But, Dante did, and he so loved kids. So he had wanted to help.)

Trish and Nero had tried everything they could think; a new blanket, a paci, a toy, rocking, moving, even a bath. They had exhausted every option in getting the baby to settle, and the only time it seemed to was when it was being held, yet only for a moment. Nero, both tired as he was and having not had experience with a baby for some time, then, couldn't hold the baby up longer than ten minutes. Trish, too afraid of her full demonic aura harming the baby in some way (though Dante was fairly sure it wouldn't have, though the man admittedly wasn't confidently sure of too much), outright refused to do so for longer than a minute. 

So, Dante grabbed the baby, and held them in his arms. Afraid himself that he was too strong and may hurt the fragile thing, he wasn't exactly aiming to hold them long himself. 

But, almost instantaneously, the baby calmed, small cries and squirms slowing until nothing moved but their lungs. In no time at all, in Dante's arms, the baby had fallen to slumber. 

Faster than was normal for this time of year, Dante had smiled. Just a little, just a small one. Heart still too focused on sorrow to let much happiness slip through its cracks. 

(Though happiness slipped through all the same.)

"Kid just needed a strong presence to hold, is all." He had said. A joke, in a sense. 

One that had passed over Trish and Nero's heads, it had seemed. Trish chastised Dante for implying Nero to be weak, and Nero chastised him for implying that he was strong, at the moment. 

Fair statements from them both, really. But that was in the past, and Dante had to focus on the present. Mostly because the baby had seemed to wake, for a moment, but it was only a passing deep breath. They relaxed, snoring softly once again. Small fingers tightened around Dante's own. 

Dante smiled; not big, but brighter. Happier. More love willing to seep through, at the moment. 

There were a million things to worry about. Not just with what was around him- that was a million things on its own. No, the baby presented its _own_ million things, and Dante was fearful for three-fourths of them. 

(For one, the baby didn't yet even have a _name_ , of all things. Who would have the honour? Nero, who had brought them into Devil May Cry, and the Sparda family? Trish, the only woman around to act as the baby's mother? Dante, so greatly unsure of if he could be a great father?)

It was uncertain. All of it. And yet…

The baby sighed in their sleep. A small whimper, quiet as every other fuss, came from them. 

It hurt Dante's heart. He pulled them closer gently, careful to not break the slumber. He broke the ill afflicting them, though. The frown that had formed disappeared from the baby, leaving only a serene, rosy-cheeked face. 

"It's like I was meant to be the one for ya, ain't it?" Dante murmured aloud. He chuckled to himself, happy to hear a small noise of contentment rising even in their sleep from the baby, as well. He brushed some wisps of hair - the thin, short strands of hair growing atop their head - back from their face, his hand resting gently on their cheek. 

"Or maybe _you_ were meant for _me_.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank ya for readin this far !!! This one was real self indulgent (more than the others).


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